


ThighGHGHGHGS Revisited

by ChutJeDors



Series: ThighGHGHGHGS [3]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Swearing, a bit of thighs, and julian's copied him, damn them both, john swears hella lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChutJeDors/pseuds/ChutJeDors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been four years since the legendary songwriters Lennon and McCartney broke up. Julian doesn’t like it. Julian wants to have his fathers back together. Julian plots, shouts and spies. Julian might even accomplish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ThighGHGHGHGS Revisited

**Author's Note:**

> Posted originally on LJ in 2013 (god i'm old)(THIS is OLD).
> 
> This is the part where I went bersek and somehow made the whole thing TOTALLY AU, and idk really how that happened. I just kinda, idk. I'll just stay quiet. The story takes place in 1977 and in this universe, the Beatles broke up in 1972 and it was all peaceful and stuff, like they just probably felt that it was time to move on. And Jules is 15 years old in this so, yeah.
> 
> This is still un-betaed so all the mistakes are my very own (dating several years back) and I'm not English so I apologise. Sorry. But my beta is working on it so I'll update this sometime later to the grammatically correct version. Nice.

Julian stepped out of the car and sighed, looking at the old and tiny but pretty and comfortable country house with conflicted feelings. It had been years since the last time he had visited this place, and he couldn't say if he was happy or angry about the fact that his father was just 'too busy' to take care of him for the next week or so, and so Julian had ended up here. In his uncle's house (or, like Julian secretly thought, his second father), because his uncle was not on tour at the moment and as he was living all alone and always wanted Julian to visit... Here he was, hesitantly glancing at the driver who just calmly unpacked his stuff from the car before saying goodbyes and driving off.

Julian hated it. Not the fact that he was going to spend a whole week in his uncle's house. No, he hated the fact that he had had to come there to spend his week. If his uncle and father had still been together, he wouldn't have to come to this house which only reminded him of how the Beatles broke up and his fathers (oops, did he just think that) had separated from each other. This was the house that he had loved before, but now, as only his uncle lived there, it just... Made things more real.

If he was home, he could pretend that they were still together, based on the phone marathons and the amounts of visits the two ex-lovers paid to each other, but when he was here he could pretend no more; as this was the house that had always been for the three of them, and was now only for the one that lived here.

It had been five years. Five long years of living hell. Five years since the Beatles broke up. Four years since his fathers (oops again) had quit the… _thing_ between them. Three years from his father and mother's divorce. Two years of him going to the boarding school while his father was on tour. One year since he had actually seen his uncle last time. Not that they wouldn't have talked on the phone or written cards and letters and that, it was just that his uncle had been on a world tour and they hadn't seen each other.

Julian had missed him so much he could die. And he knew his father could see it too, as it was the same for him. Only that he didn't miss a father figure, he missed a partner, a lover, a friend. And Dad missed Julian's uncle even when the man was there with them, drinking tea and going on and on about the things he was going to try on his new album. His father was almost more than excited and more than miserable after those visits, as he missed the other so much.

Julian couldn't understand why they weren't together anymore. They had been a couple as long as he could remember and they had been so happy. And then something had went wrong and they had stopped and Julian was confused. And _sad_. Because even if it was wrong to think like this, he thought they were meant to each other and there was nothing wrong in them being together, even if it was two men. Two fathers.

He had always known. As he had said, they had been together as long as he could remember. He was the only one that knew about them two, though he didn't know why. They had never talked about it to him, had acted like they were only friends, but somehow Julian knew. He had a feeling he had seen them kiss for a few times, but he had been too little back then to remember now if it was true or only a dream. (Because yes, he had dreams of them three living together and being happy and his fathers being together and kissing every now and then and Julian always woke up crying, because why couldn't it be true?) He had always thought their love for each other was stronger than his mother and father's for each other. It sounded pretty fun that he would rather have his uncle and father back together than his mother and father, but... It just, it was that he had never thought about it. There had been his uncle and his father, and then there had been his mother, whom he loved very dearly but who was his mother. And he wanted to have his two fathers.

He sighed and rubbed at the base of his nose. It really was a nightmare to return to this place, as it only made him remember things he didn't want to remember, as they made him so very anxious. But now he was here and the driver had already disappeared and he had no other choices than to go in and show up to his father... (Oops.)

Julian bent down to lift up his luggage, glanced at the empty road for the last time before walking to the gate, pushing it open and then walking up to the door. He rang the door bell and stepped back a little to give the door the access to open.

It opened within ten seconds which told him his uncle had been waiting for him, probably had sat in that old chair that was next to the door and had just stared at the wall or read or written songs or something like that. Whatever it was that he had been doing, it didn't matter to Julian. Because it had been a _year_ since he had seen the man that was now in front of him, leaning on the doorframe with a hesitating and a bit twitching smile. Julian stared at him and took in the appearance of him.

Hair was still long, a mullet (Julian found himself smiling at it. He could swear his dad had a hell of a crush on his uncle's mullet hair). There were no more wrinkles than had been when they had seen each other the last time and he didn't seem to have gotten older. Still the same brown eyes, the same arching eyebrows, the same loving smile Julian remembered so well. The smile that followed him into his dreams when he dreamt of a happy family.

And then he was throwing his bag away and was suddenly hugging his uncle, who answered the hug as eagerly as ever and Julian might have cried, but for once he didn't care. He had missed him so much.

"You've grown so much! Fifteen years old!" his uncle exclaimed a moment later, having a hold of Julian's shoulders and eyes twinkling with a way that told that he was as happy as Julian to see the boy. He ruffled his left hand through his hair and then hugged him again.

"It's so great to see you again," his uncle mumbled and Julian let himself to bury his head into the ex-beatle's shoulder, clutched his shirt and let out muffled sobs that made his uncle softly stroke his back with his fingers. There was something in his arms that always made Julian feel so good. And it had been his whole life, that matter. While it was always nice when his father hugged him or wrapped his arm around his shoulders, his uncle hugging him was something totally else. So he relished the feeling that came from the familiar, soothing scent and arms and chest and hugged back just as tightly.

"Let's get inside, shall we?" his uncle grinned at him then and Julian smiled back happily, nodding in the progress. His uncle let him go and took his bag from where Julian had thrown it and then they walked inside, uncle's hand on his shoulder.

Maybe it wouldn't be too awful to be here.

***

"So, how's school? Friends? Any girls at sight?"

"Easy Pa, why so eager?" Julian smiled into his teacup when his uncle stared at him with _very_ eager eyes and squeezed a biscuit in his hand with a force that would have broken it if it wasn't made by his father (oops, uncle. Uncle.) who was well known to burn everything he cooked. Except mashed potatoes. His mashed potatoes was the best food Julian could imagine having.

"'T's been a bloody year since I saw you, of course I wanna hear ev'rythin', so tell me EVERYTHING," his uncle slammed his hand down on the table and Julian chocked on his tea, trying not to burst out laughing. But then again, maybe it would do him good to laugh with his uncle.

"Well, school's fine. My mates are fine. No girls."

He watched as the perfect eyebrows raised up and a smile spread on his uncle's face.

"You sure 'bout them girls?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, you'll find someone, for sure."

"Yeah…"

A comfortable silence fell upon them, with Julian drinking his tea and his uncle examining him, especially his face. After few minutes Julian lowered the cup and frowned.

"Somethin' in me face?"

The other laughed and shook his head, leaning on his hand and smiling at him.

"Nah, you jus' look so much like your father."

Ah. So that was the reason. Julian bit his lip and hummed, bringing the cup to his lips again. How difficult it must be for his uncle, to sit there and see how Julian had turned into his father? Julian wished he could do something, so Uncle could also see his father and look at him with those same gentle and loving eyes that he held for Julian.

"I guess I do then, Mum always says the same," he smiled faintly and reached out for a biscuit, even though he knew he could never get it eaten today. But he bit at it bravely and the smile that spread on the ex-beatle's lips was enough for him to try and it more. Not that Uncle didn't know how difficult it was.

"How is she anyway? Haven't heard of her in a while," Uncle then said and looked away. Julian didn't know the exact reasons behind his parents' (biological ones, mind you) divorce, except that his mother had said that 'we just couldn't work it out' and that had instantly reminded Julian of one particular song and he had wondered, if his mother had said on purpose. He had listened the song for ages, trying to find out the reason of his parents' divorce. Maybe it had just had happened like in the song. Or then his mother had found out about his dads. That would be bad but unfortunately, sometime in the future the whole world would know if the two ex-lovers moved together.

That was at least what Julian hoped. (He had made it quite clear, hadn't he?)

"She's fine, she's not missing dad at all." Okay, why did he say that first? "I mean," he stuttered fast when his uncle lifted his annoying perfect eyebrows (Julian had heard about this topic from his father very much, actually every time his dear daddy decided to get drunk. Mr. Perfect Eyebrows was his favourite subject then), "You'd think they'd have missed each other after such a long marriage but neither one shows any sings of that." No, as his father had someone else to miss like mad and his mother didn't give a single fuck about his father anymore, it seemed. Hadn't given in years, actually.

"Well, that's good to hear. Of course it's already three years, but... One can never know what happens when you part with someone important," the smile he received was very sad, probably his uncle didn't even realise he was showing it. But Julian saw, because he had always seen. He felt sad.

"Yeah, well, they really got it sorted out without any furniture flyin', I think," he grinned faintly and his uncle answered with a same kind of a smile.

"Same with me'n Jane. She jus' wasn't the right one," Uncle then said and Julian wanted to ask if things had been levitating when he and Dad had divorced. Broken up. Fallen apart. Whatever they had done. But that would be a wrong move. Firstly, his parents (fathers. Shit) didn't even know Julian knew. And secondly, it would be too rude.Thirdly, it was likely that it had happened peacefully, as they could still be in the same room and talk with each other and were absolutely inseparable if they happened to be in a mood. In a mood to ignore their broken hearts. If they weren't, well, it was just painful to watch.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before his uncle stood up and announced that he hadn't yet made Julian's bed and it was better to do it now or he would never get it done. Julian agreed and stuffed the rest of the biscuit into his mouth and left the rest of the tea on the table before following his uncle, and listening to his cheerful chatting about the house falling slowly into his hands. Which was kind of true, as the house was old and his uncle could _not_ repair a thing even if his life depended on it.

The picture of his fathers on the chest of drawers in the hallway made his heart ache.

***

_"_ _H_ _ow did the journey go?"_

"Could've been better. It was borin' actually."

_"I know exactly what you're talkin' 'bout."_

"I think you do... How's New York?"

_"Oh y'know, the same ol' stuff as always, cars and people... Yoko's art show is amazin', though."_

"Tell her I said hello," Julian sat down on the floor and crossed his legs, smiled when he heard his father shout something to someone near him in the other end of the line.

 _"She sends her best wishes,"_ his father sounded a bit bored now and Julian knew he didn't like to be a message deliver. Too bad for him.

For a while it was quiet, Julian listening to the sound of his uncle playing something on the piano while his father remained silent.

_"How's he, then?"_

Julian should have guessed.

"Oh, fine, I think. His biscuits are still…"

_"An experience."_

"Yeah," Julian laughed and he heard the piano playing stop. "I think Pa's actually comin' this way, you wanna talk with him?" he raised his eyebrows even though his father could not see it and smiled brightly when his uncle showed up in the doorway and Julian gestured towards the phone questioningly.

 _"Guess I've got no choice??"_ his father answered and Julian gleamed, lifted the phone receiver in the air and handed it towards his uncle, "Da wants to talk with you!"

 _"Hey, I never said that---"_ Julian had time to hear before his uncle took the receiver into his hand and with a sigh, brought it to his ear.

"Hi John, 's nice to hear from you too."

There was a familiar sound in his voice; it was the tone he always used when he was acting irritated towards his former band mate when in reality he was nowhere near being annoyed. Julian had heard that tone very often when he had been younger. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin against them, silently listening to the chat going on between the two most important people in his life.

"Yeah, it was alright. Had fun, but I'm thinkin' of makin' a solo album in few years." His uncle leant on the wall, playing with the telephone cord with his free hand while answering on the question about his latest tour. All Julian heard from his father was muffled sounds but he already knew what he was going to say; same questions, same ways to talk with each other so that it wouldn't hurt them. Julian didn't understand why they weren't together.

"Really? Well, tell my greetings."

Now his father was telling about Yoko Ono's art show that was currently being held in New York. Yoko and Julian's dad had met each other in 1966, when his father had visited her art show in the spur of a moment. They had become good friends and Yoko had brought some new thoughts and winds into his father's life, she had visited the studio couple of times too, which was very unusual. Julian had always liked her despite her being pretty strange and thought she was kind and nice and an endearing person once you got to know her. Julian really had to respect her, after all those butt movies. How could someone think badly of her??

"Well, I don't know. Thought we could make couple of trips together and then maybe go to the movies and then I don't know, just, hang out together." Apparently his father had asked what they were going to do while Julian's staying. "We're doin' whatever he wants," his uncle smiled and then smiled even more at something his father had said.

"Really? I don't know if he liked that."

"What?" Julian lifted his head and the ex-beatle glanced at him, smiling mysteriously. Then he just shook his head and closed his eyes, listened at Julian's father.

"No, not at all. It will do you good," his voice was full of affection and Julian wanted to kill them for being such idiots. Or kick the one of them so that he was almost dead and then the other would sink to his knees next to the dying one and tell that he was so sorry and that he regretted everything and that he loved him and wanted to be with him forever and then Julian would summon his magical powers and save the dying one's life and then they would live happily ever after. The end.

Except that damn. Julian had no magical powers. The other one could actually die. Damn.

"Yeah... See ye 'round then," his uncle was saying and then he offered the receiver back to Julian, smiling strangely. Julian didn't know what to think of it.

"Hi?" he asked while his uncle waltzed out of the room, really danced more like walked. Julian heard him humming to himself happily and decided that whatever he and Julian's dad had planned, it was good.

 _"Hi! So, where were we?"_ his father was probably smiling hugely in the other end of the line and Julian found himself smiling too. It wasn't everyday he heard his father this happy.

"I can't remember. What if we jus' discuss about the weather?"

_"Well, it's rainin' here right now an' I'm standin' in a bloody phone box an' Yoko's standin' outside of it with an umbrella an' did I mention it's fuckin' rainin'??"_

"Yeah, did Mum ever remind you of the language you use while speaking to your child?"

_"She might've few times, yes. It was more Paul's job back then, though."_

Julian smiled sadly, because yes, he remembered how his uncle had used to scowl at his father very often, actually. His dad was one hell of a swearing idiot, if he used his uncle's words.

"Mm," he hummed agreeing and rested his head against the wall, "I think Pa's makin' us food."

_"That's great. An' you're still callin' him Pa."_

"Somethin' wrong in it? I've always called him Pa, as long as I can remember."

He could hear a strange quiver in his father's voice when the man answered.

_"Well, I remember the time you called him uncle Paul and he was always gleamin' when ye did."_

Julian smiled at the thought of him being a tiny toddler, going around the Kenwood's living room and calling for Uncle Paul. Well, he was still uncle in his thoughts. (Yeah, he wished.)

He let himself to fall into his own mind when his father started to rant about the weather in usual. He just wished his father could rant maybe about his uncle's perfect face features or something like that, because that was what Julian wanted to hear. The proof that they really had been together. Because well, he couldn't be sure. Except that he was sure. He was surer about it than about his name being John Charles Julian Lennon. His name could always be John Charles Julian McCartney and nobody would ever know. Or he could be John Paul Julian McCartney/Lennon.

He liked that thought.

***

He had been in his uncle's place for one week when he was met with the most shocking thing ever in his life (which was a lot, as he had went through a lot of shocks when realising his fathers (oops) weren't together anymore, which was against the nature. Really). He had been drinking tea quite peacefully while his father (oops again) _uncle_ had been sitting in the hallway, reading a news magazine, when the doorbell rang.

Julian would have thought it was some of his uncle's friends. Or a postman that was bringing news that his father had been arrested for getting drunk and yelling from the top of his lungs that Paul McCartney was a faggot and liked to get fucked on his butt. Or Doctor Who who told that Julian had an important role in bringing the two ex-beatles back together and that needed lots of time-travelling and fighting against the Daleks. Julian wasn't obsessed with the show.

He would have never been prepared to see his father (his biological, mind you) dash into the kitchen and wrap his arms around him while shouting from the tops of his lungs, 'Jules' and give him a big and wet kiss on his cheek.

"Ew! Dad! Off!" he squirmed in his father's hold while his uncle was standing in the doorway, laughing his head off. Oh how Julian loved his wonderful family. So helpful and nice and everything.

"Surprise!" his father then told him happily and he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, really?? I didn't notice!" he might have sounded a little bit angry but his father knew better than that. He just patted his head and let go, paraded through the kitchen, going on about something that had something to do with the bad weather in England and how his luggage needed to be unpacked and how he would very much appreciate some help, if he was to stay for couple of days in this god forsaken place where there were cows in the backyard and sheep might come in at nights and scare the hell out of you (well, the only sheep that had come in was the one his uncle had let in years back to wake up his partner, as it had already been midday).

Julian watched how his uncle rolled his eyes also, then winked at Julian before going after his ex-lover to help him to make himself home. Julian took a biscuit from the plate on the table.

Now this was going to be complicated. He had made peace with his thoughts about this place, but what about his father and uncle now that they were both in the house? If Julian remembered correctly, this kitchen was the exact place where they had broken up four years ago. Julian had been ten and he remembered how he had been sent outside to play with Martha, the huge sheepdog his uncle had had back then (Martha had unfortunately died a year ago and Julian still felt the loss, he had loved the dog dearly) and how he had been there for about an hour before his father had come out and said that they were leaving, and that they weren't going to come back in a while. Julian had thought that his fathers had a row. Later he had realised it wasn't just that.

It was the last time they had been in this house all three together. Now the same was happening again and Julian couldn't help but let a tiny sparkle of hope rise inside his chest. Maybe it meant something, and his father had been in such a good mood when he had come in? Maybe they would get together again? Maybe Julian would get the family he had always hoped he had? Maybe?

He brought the mug to his lips and took a sip of the hot tea when he heard a loud crash coming somewhere upstairs and then his father cursed very loudly, and his uncle said 'Language, John' while laughing and Julian felt happy.

He so much wished the maybe would be actually true. Maybe this time it would.

***

It was a night when he realised everything wasn't actually alright. He had a vague memory when he woke up at two A.M that his uncle had never went to sleep in the evening. So now, when he looked at his watch while standing in the middle of the bathroom, seeing the light in the living room, he decided that everything really wasn't as good as he had thought it to be. Yesterday had been just wonderful and he had had so fun with his uncle and father and he had been so very happy when going to sleep, but now…

He tip-toed at the living room door and peeped his head in. His uncle was sitting on the sofa, head in his hands and still in his jeans and jumper. Julian wanted to cry from frustration. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. His uncle shouldn't be here all by himself, he should be with Julian's father right now!

Not that they had ever slept in the same room when Julian was there. But he remembered all those nights waking up when there were silent steps outside his door, going into the direction of the other's room. He remembered always thinking, 'there those randy bastards go again'. His father did have an effect on his language.

He stepped into the living room and managed to take two steps before his uncle lifted his face and looked at him for few seconds before straightening his back.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he asked with a tone that told everything; It is too late you lil' piece of shit you should be sleeping what are you doing here spying on me go away. That was how his father would have said it. His uncle probably only thought 'why aren't you sleeping'. Well, his question actually told it was so.

"Woke up an' realised you're here," Julian answered truthfully and sat next to his uncle, lifted his legs against his chest and wrapped his arms around them, "why aren't you sleepin' then?"

"Got so many things in my mind," the ex-beatle mumbled and scrubbed his nose between his eyes, "Can't sleep at the moment, really."

"Wanna talk 'bout it?" Julian asked before he was able to hold his tongue and received a strange look from the dark-haired man sitting next to him, a look that was pretty confused also.

"It's an adults' thing," his uncle then answered and Julian wanted to cry again, because he was probably the best person to help in this situation, really. His advice would be, just fucking get back together you love him and he loves you and I want my dads so fucking shag already, but he doubted his uncle would want to hear him say that. He would have to use some other ways to bring the subject up.

"Has it somethin' to do with me?" he asked, deciding to take an innocent, childish way to spy on his uncle, not that he already wouldn't have known what was on the other man's mind.

"No, of course not," Uncle smiled and ran his hand through Julian's hair, "It has nothin' to do with you." He smiled sadly.

"What then?" Julian asked and tilted his head, "Is it because Da's here?"

For a second, just for a second, he saw the mask that was covering his uncle's face slip away and he saw all that depression, all that sadness and love and anger and longing and _everything_ that the dark-haired man felt for Julian's father and Julian's heart cried, but then the moment was away and it was only his uncle, looking pretty worn out and maybe a bit older than usually.

He was so sick on his fathers hiding their love. He had probably already said that. He was so sick of them not being together when clearly it was everything they ever wanted. He had probably said that one too. He was sick of not being able to do anything. He had said that also.

"Is there anythin' I can do 'bout it, whatever it is?" he asked and leant on the sofa's armrest. His uncle chuckled and shook his head, making Julian's insides boil with anger. There was lot he could do, if they would just let him!

"No, not really. It's jus' one of my many problems that I can't do anythin' to help."

Wrong. _You could do very much about it if you just tried._

"It's nothin', really. You don't need to worry."

Bullocks. _It's not nothing. I have every right to worry about you because if this continues, I'm soon living with my mum and I will have not even_ _ **one**_ _father_.

"Jus' go to sleep Jules, let it be."

_What the fuck are you talking about??_

"Ye two 're fuckin' idiots," Julian suddenly hissed and jumped on his feet, staring at his uncle who was looking at him with bewildered, huge eyes. He didn't know why he was so angry, all of a sudden. He was so sick of everything. He didn't deserve this. "Fuckin' idiots," he repeated and turned, stomped out of the living room, ran into his own and crawled on his bed, wrapping the sheets around himself.

And then the tears came.

He sobbed into the pillow, first quietly but then it got louder and he felt so ashamed, tried to stop crying but just ended up making weird snorting noises between the sobs. It was so unfair, all of this happening. Why couldn't the three of them just be happy together? Why his fathers had to be such an idiotic bastards? Why were they ruining not only their own lives, but Julian's too?? He wished he would never have to come out under the sheets.

"Julian," a silent voice whispered and he felt a hand being placed on him. He shook it away and turned his body so that he was facing the wall, body trembling with his sobbing.

"Jules," there was another voice that was so dear to him but that he hated at the moment, and then he felt a weight on the mattress when one of his two father figures in his room sat on it. And hand came back on his shoulder and he tried to shake it off again, but didn't succeed, as at this point in crying he just started to want comfort. It was how it always went; Shout, cry, turn down every offers of comfort, cry a bit more, be ready to hug every living creature that happened to be in the same room with him at the moment. Fuck.

So he turned, and still trying to suppress the tears sat up and let himself to be pulled into his uncle's arms, who was the one sitting on his bed. His father (who was too in his jeans and t-shirt, as it turned out) was leaning over the bed, looking really confused, worried and a bit of helpless. He had never been good at handling Julian when he was upset, Julian knew.

Slowly he started to calm down in his uncle's arms, Uncle slowly stroking his hair with his other hand and holding him tightly with his other. He let out soothing sounds and eventually Julian calmed down enough to start thinking about what had happened.

That caused him to start crying again and he really hated himself for being an emotionally unbalanced teenager. Crying was for _girls_.

At this point his father sat on his other side, half sitting on Julian's pillow, and placed his hand on Julian's shoulder to give some comfort. And then Julian decided it was time to speak.

"Y-you t-t-two are s-such idiots," he sobbed against his uncle's shirt and didn't feel bad for maybe ruining it. He deserved it for making Julian's life a living hell.

"It would maybe help if you enlightened us a bit with the meaning of your sentence, which I do very much agree to," his uncle said and Julian was torn between crying and laughing. He decided to compromise and pushed the man that was holding him away.

"Y-y-ye j-just suffer-r a-and make eve-ryone else s-s-suffer too," he managed to say between his sobs, knowing that half of his words were too messed up for his fathers to understand, but he didn't care. They got the idea.

"Jules... I don't understand what you mean by that," his father spoke now, placing a careful hand on Julian's shoulder and sounding somehow sad, "What do you mean we make ourselves suffer?"

Julian jumped up on his feet and turned on his two fathers that were now sitting very confused on his bed, both looking scared and worried. Julian didn't give a single fuck how worried they were, as he had worried last four years when one of them got enough and decided to end his life. He had seen his father's depression close enough (maybe that had been part of the reason his mum and dad had broken up? Now that he thought about it).

He felt rage surge through him and then he was shouting, still crying, but it wasn't now as important as to let all of his thoughts come out in one single breath. His fathers' expressions were worth seeing.

  
  
"You don't know what I mean??! Well I'll fucking tell you, I mean that you two should bloody get back together _right_ now and not when the fucking _cows_ fly!!! You think that you can't be together for some fuckin' reason when _all_ you want is to be a couple, and it's so _fucking frustrating_ to see you two just tryin' to be _friends_ when you _never_ fuckin' can be-”  he took a sharp breath and found to his amazement that the tears had stopped falling from his eyes. Shouting was good. He should do it more.

Well, his father seemed to be in shock and his uncle was freaking out, by the looks of his wide eyes and ragged breathing and pale face. At least he had understood at last what Julian meant.

"What?" his father asked and Julian wanted to kick him dead. Maybe he should consider his earlier plan anyway. It didn't matter if he couldn't save the idiot that told everyone he was his father. No, at the moment he would be very happy if he could kick him dead.

"You two should be together," he said quietly, voice cracking up and then, oh God, he was crying again and he felt so childish, "never fuckin' apart. Together."

"Oh," the realisation hit his father's eyes harder than Julian could have kicked him and the familiar face paled all over. He was about to open his mouth (Julian's uncle was still freaking out) when Julian interrupted him.

"Don't fuckin' say that it isn't true. I know it is. You've been together like forever an' four years ago you broke up in the fuckin' kitchen over there!!" his pointed at his bedroom's door and his voice got louder again, when his father suddenly lifted his hands in a calming motion and then patted the space between him and Julian's uncle (who was soon going to hyperventilate, it seemed).

For a while Julian just stared at him, eyes narrowed (and tears in them) before taking a few steps and sitting on the bed. His father wrapped his arm around his shoulders and looked at him deeply into his eyes.

"I've always thought you're clever but not _that_ clever," he then said, voice suddenly full of amazement. Julian just glared at him and the ex-beatle sighed.

"Look, Jules. It really is complicated, the stuff between me'n Paul. I'd like to talk 'bout it with him before sayin' anythin' to you."

"But I already know enough. I've always known," Julian said, but his father just shook his head and squeezed Julian's shoulder.

"It's better if you sleep well an' then we'll talk when it's mornin'."

"But—"

"Honestly," his father looked at him again with those deep eyes that were so the same as Julian's, and Julian knew that there was no buts when it came to that look. So he nodded and looked miserably at his hands. Then he moved, crawled under his sheets and his father stroked his hair like he used to do when Julian was little and leant closer and kissed his forehead.

"We'll talk in the mornin, I promise," he then said and stood up, tugged at Julian's uncle's (who was now trying to calm his breathing down) sleeve and then they made they way on the door, sharing a look that told Julian everything. They were finally going to talk.

The lights were shut down and his fathers whispered a silent 'night, Jules', and Julian hugged his pillow tightly and wiped the last tears away from the corners of his eyes. Maybe it was still going to be a maybe.

***

_"I don't know if I can make it without cryin'."_

_"For god's sake Paul, be a man---"_

_"It's fuckin' hard okay?? I can't talk 'bout it with you either if you've noticed!"_

_"Yeah, I have, thanks very much."_

_"I jus' say that it'd be maybe better if it was you talkin' with him, as you're much better in words an' besides you're his_ _dad_ _…"_

_"Y'know what, Paul, I've_ _had_ _a feelin'_ _for_ _past these years that you're as much of a father to him as I am."_

_"Please, I'm not ready, John, we agreed to this together back then, didn't we??"_

_"Yeah, we fuckin' did, did we?!"_

Julian let out a desperate sigh and leant his head on his hand. The voices of his fathers could be heard from the kitchen even if he was sitting in the living room, and they were having an argument. Which was caused by his father asking his uncle if he could be the one to talk with Julian first. Julian didn't understand how they managed to make such a fight from that tiny thing. Except that, they were Lennon and McCartney, they could put up an argument from bloody whales if they wanted to. Maybe it was just their way to communicate. Actually very sad.

He heard the door open and then his uncle was there, standing in the doorway and looking really scared. He had lost the argument then. Maybe he thought breaking down in front of Julian would threaten his non-existing manliness. (Yes, Julian was copying his father in his way of thinking.) He managed to get a glimpse of his father behind his uncle before the door was being closed and his uncle made his way to the sofa, sat next to Julian and let out a huge sigh. Just what Julian wanted to do when thinking about his stubborn fathers.

"So," he stated sourly, face blank without moving any muscle. His uncle closed his eyes and tried to contain his breathing, it seemed.

"You know this is pretty hard for us," he then said and Julian wished to kick him dead. He was being pretty violent in this story.

"Oh, really? I had no idea, with Da always havin' an annoying McCartney-bastard rant when you're not there," he answered still without any motions. His uncle looked like he was going to cry.

"Why did you have to learn your way to speak from your father," he huffed and leant back, bringing his arms on his neck, closing his eyes. "It's true though, what you said."

"Ev'rythin' I say is true."

"Well, actually not. We were not together 'forever', as you so kindly informed us last night," his uncle said and for a while Julian had hard time thinking. Because the older man had just basically told him that it was true. They had really been together. They were really in love. Julian wanted to strangle them.

"As long as I can remember," he argued and his uncle suddenly smiled, eyes still closed.

"Nah, you were about a year old."

"Oh," Julian's eyes widened. So it actually was USA. He had always thought, having heard stories of that row that his fathers had had in that unforgettable US tour that that was probably some kind of a lovers' fight, but he had also thought that it maybe had something to do with them getting together. Except that in every interview from 1963 they seemed to be head over heels with each other. With his father staring at his uncle like he wanted to bang the hell out of him there and then.

"It's not what you think," his uncle then said and opened his eyes, "the row we had in the US... I don't even remember what it was 'bout. Probably it was jus' that John thought tomatoes are better than potatoes an' then we had a fight. I don't know, can't really remember," he shrugged and Julian had a vivid image of his fathers having an argument of potatoes. Potatoes. He seriously started to believe they had had an argument of whales sometime before.

"How did you get together then?" he blurted out and then, suddenly, felt and excited wave surge through him. He had never known. He wanted to know. How had it started?

For his confusion and amazement his uncle blushed harder than he had ever before and he coughed, looking away from Julian's eager eyes.

"I don't really want to tell, y'know."

"You fucked so hard???" Julian's eyes bulged and his uncle looked at him shocked. Julian could swear he heard his father howling with laughter somewhere in the hallway.

"What? Dear God, no! What on earth did Cyn think when she left you with your father??" his uncle was now blushing so furiously Julian forgot all of his previous anger and sadness. This was a prime-time entertainment, it was.

"I don't know, I don't care, how did it happen??" he leant forward and smiled mischievously. His uncle then just rolled his eyes and let out a chuckle. Julian was a bit surprised.

"Well, I noticed I fancied his.....m," he blushed again and Julian frowned.

"Hism?

"Uh, erm, I, um, I told him I liked him an' we became lovers," the blushing man stuttered and Julian realised he had to ask about this from his father, probably. His uncle would never really tell. Maybe he had to ask different kind of things from his uncle.

"Why did ye break up?" he asked quietly and looked how hollowness made its way on his uncle's face. The older man sighed and let his hands drop on his lap, started to play with his own fingers.

"Well, the Beatles broke up, an' we just... It wasn't the same as before," he lifted his eyes and looked at Julian, as if begging for understanding. But Julian wasn't feeling like he would give mercy now. He needed to know. And he was going to make it better. Oh the irony.

"How was it different?" he asked and his uncle looked desperate. Good for him.

"I can't... I mean, I don't know if I should just talk about this with you, Jules. Feels so weird."

"It felt weird to realise that you weren't together anymore. Start talkin'."

"You really shouldn't spend time with John."

Julian crossed his arms on his chest and waited, maybe pouting a bit but not caring one bit. His uncle sighed and wrapped his arms around himself, looked at the painting on the wall.

"It wasn't so good as before. It felt like the passion between us had disappeared. We weren't as young as in the early 60's an' we started to grow apart," his uncle looked at him now, but Julian wasn't satisfied. That was an answer one could give to a press. Julian wasn't a press. Julian was fucking family and deserved an answer for suffering for about four years.

"Fuckin' bullocks. You've not grown apart, even blinds can see!" he said and his uncle buried his head into his hands. For few seconds there was a total silence, only the clock ticking on the wall could be heard. Julian almost held his breath and wanted to urge his uncle to talk, but felt that it was important to let him think for a while. It was hard for him anyway, not that Julian gave a shit. But he knew that if he wanted answers, he had to be patient. Few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

"I never told him I loved him."

Oh. Never.

"Never?"

"Never," his uncle looked up with sad eyes, looking pretty miserable. On the verge of tears, really.

"What happened?" Julian finally asked and decided this was the last fucking time he was going to make this question. If he wasn't going to get the answer now he would kick his uncle until he got the asnwer. Period.

"It started to repeat the same old pattern. We met in secret, had few hours an' then we had to go back pretendin' there was only a friendship between us. When the Beatles broke up... It got more difficult, 'cos we couldn't meet with an excuse of writin' songs anymore. We had our own things, John got his avant-garde and me just trying to go solo, and it just... didn't feel it would be the same than before, an' you started to grow up, and so we decided to... stop."

Julian sat quietly now, staring at his uncle who hadn't moved his eyes from the painting. All those years and they had broken up because they started to do different things. Were they really so stupid? Why couldn't they just come out?

Well, of course back then his father had still been married to his mother and everything... And the world was still a homophobic place. He understood why they didn't make it official.

But still…

"But if it started to get lame an' all that, you wouldn't miss each other so much as you do now," he mumbled and wrapped his arms around his legs, "you're still in love, I can't understand why you aren't together anymore. You could be, jus' move together an' make tours together, put up a new band if you can't sit home when the other isn't there, whatever, jus' get back together!" he started to sound a little desperate. His uncle looked at him pretty amazed and Julian raised his eyebrows challengingly, asking the reason for that look.

"I never realised you knew."

"Yeah, I kept quiet but it seems I jus' should've shouted at you earlier." Julian knew he sounded really irritated and angered but he didn't really care. He was going to change the maybe to a yes. No other alternatives.

"I don't know if this changes anythin' between me'n John," his uncle mumbled and turned his head away, "we can't be together. I'm not even sure if he wants it anymore."

"Bullshit," Julian scowled and his uncle looked surprised and maybe, just _maybe_ a little hopeful? "He's still head over heels for ye."

The older man blushed again and glanced at the living room door, bringing up his left hand and started to bite his fingernails.

"Even if it's so, it's not the same anymore. I meant it when I said that we couldn't find that old passion again."

"What was the first thing you noticed in him?" Julian asked, now curious again, but maybe he could get them back together by rekindling the old flames? Could he do it? (Later he started to think that he should make a living as a marriage counsellor.) At least he had to give it a try.

He was honestly surprised to find his uncle blushing again and biting his nails with even more shaking. He frowned and tilted his head.

"Come'n, it can't be that bad," he smiled encouragingly and then suddenly grinned openly, "You should hear Da's rantin' 'bout you an' your body parts."

His uncle looked like he was either going to faint or go and strangle his ex (or soon to be)-lover. Julian decided that the later option was better. He could help. His father shouldn't get drunk so often. It made him _talk_.

"Drunk, eh?" his uncle laughed quietly, cheeks still all red, "I always knew he'd cause me the greatest shame of all time."

"I know the feelin'. But tell now, Pa?" Julian urged and then, as if something had changed in his uncle, the man suddenly smiled a huge smile and he motioned Julian come closer. Julian did so and then his uncle leant over to whisper into his ear.

"No way!" Julian gasped and pulled back so he could stare at still blushing man's eyes. His uncle let out a giggle that Julian couldn't tell if it was ashamed or just mischievous. Then a grin spread on his lips and he started to giggle too, and soon they were both going at it, together like a couple of teenager girls. Well, Julian wasn't sure if his uncle was actually that. He himself was the manliest man the world could ever find, for sure.

"Hey," he then breathed and leant over to speak with a hushed tone, to make sure his father in the hallway (or wherever he was) couldn't hear, "what if you try this this evenin'?"

He told his plan to his uncle with a hushed tone and after he had done that, just stared intently at the other's eyes, trying to get him to agree.

"You think it'd work?" his uncle whispered and looked somehow excited. Just what Julian had hoped. He nodded and answered with a grin:

"I'm one hundred percent fuckin' sure."

"Language, Jules."

"Fuck it."

They laughed and hugged and after that his uncle stood up and said that he was going to let Julian's father in now. Julian nodded, excited to finally hear how had things really started.

***

"He actually said that??" Julian whispered and his father nodded, smiling at the memory.

"Yeah he fuckin' did!"

"What did ye do??"

"I laughed an' said, if I remember correctly, that I understood an' that 'they are nice lookin' fellows' or somethin' like that."

"Oh my god, dad, ye can't be serious."

"I am, though."

They grinned at each other, Julian feeling easy and relaxed and his father probably the same. The auburn haired man had been pleasantly surprised when he had learnt that Julian already knew about what had been the real obsession of his uncle's and had been more than eager to tell the story how things had started. Or so it seemed to Julian, who had hard time containing his laughter. He was going to scream from joy soon, he decided.

"An' then?" he asked and smiled at his father's shining eyes.

"Well, who was I to stop the horny McCartney from gettin' what he wanted?"

"Holy. Fuckin'. Shit. Dad."

"I know," John let out a tiny giggle, "it was amazing."

His eyes seemed to turn foggy when he stared into the air, a faint smile dancing on his lips. Whatever he remembered, the memory was very dear to him.

"I miss seein' him like that."

"Don't gimme any ideas, I've accepted ye two fuckin' an' bein' my official parents, but it doesn't mean I want to hear everythin' about blowjobs in the garden," Julian held his hands in the air as a defending posture, making his father laugh out loud.

"Cheeky! We never did it in a garden, though…"

"Dad!"

"Sorry," his father grinned, "I thought you'd already got used on me speakin' like this."

"No, I mean yes, but it's still... It's not that I really want to hear 'bout queer sex," Julian grimaced and his father laughed again.

"I get it, don't worry," the older man wrapped his arm around Julian's shoulders and brought him closer, ruffed his son's hair, "I do miss him, though."

"I know. That's why ye should get him back."

His father looked at him wondering something, but then shook his head and closed his eyes.

"He probably doesn't even want me anymore."

"But ye want him?"

"I can't say no to that. Never can. Well, maybe in some occasions, if it's bloody Mimi askin'."

Julian laughed and brought his knees up to his chest again. He felt like he did it all the time.

"Do you love 'im?" he asked and looked at the painting his uncle had stared earlier. He was pretty sure his father had made it.

"Yeah, I do," his father answered without hesitation and Julian smiled. It had been a lot easier than with his uncle.

"You never told it?"

"Never."

"...You should."

"I know."

"Let's stay for couple of days more, please?"

"I think that suits for me perfectly. It's yer holiday anyway."

"Great. I want pancakes."

"Me too. Let's make Paul make us pancakes."

"Deal."

***

  
Julian went sleep early that evening. He said good night to his fathers that had been sitting in the living room, watching television and retreated into his room, put on his night shirt and trousers and then jumped on his bed after switching the lights off.

Now he only had to wait.

He didn't remember when he had last been this excited.

***

"You think he's already sleepin'?"

"Nah, he's related to me. Such a little shit that stays awake an' spies on people havin' prime-time fun."

"Shh, John!"

"Yeah yeah, okay. Good night Jules!"

"John!"

The lights in the hallway shut down and footsteps headed for the master bedroom. Julian smiled into his pillow before yawning one last time and letting dreams take over him.

Mission finally completed.

***

"Paul, bloody hell!" John jumped up from his bed when Paul walked into the guest room, mullet hair jumping up and down funnily when he took steps.

"We gotta talk," Paul said and stared at John deeply into his eyes, "Don't try to run off now."

"I wasn't goin' to," John rolled his eyes, "but can I put on some pants first? As you see, I was just in the middle of _changin'_."

"I can see that very well, thank you," Paul answered and sat on the bed, letting his eyes wander over John's pretty much naked thighs, with the other man noticing, of course.

"Well," John started, sounding tense, "what did ye have to say?"

For a while it was a silence and John was just about to open his mouth and demand for Paul to talk, when Paul did so. And dropped the bloody bomb.

"I love you."

Paul looked how John stared at him, totally frozen on his place. He knew when John started to breath again; it came out as a gasp more than a normal breathe. And then John took off his glasses (he always started undressing from trousers, Paul remembered and that was how he could have timed his entering perfectly; John had just taken off his jeans but hadn't quite managed to take the glasses off yet) and placed them on a nightstand and looked at Paul again, and Paul had time to close his eyes before John kissed him.

And Paul's hands found their way to rest on John's thighs and he took a hold of them, grabbed them harder when John deepened the kiss and one of them moaned, could have been both as well…

It was overwhelming, the feeling of having each other again. Because four years was a long time, especially if the other was there all the time, sitting next to you and drinking tea and smiling and laughing but not quite _yours_ to have. Four years was a bloody long time. Too long.

John pushed Paul down on the bed and then took a hold of his head and licked his way into his mouth, meeting the familiar tongue. It felt so good. It felt like everything was on its place again. The world was on its tracks again.

"I love you," John whispered and his voice got a bit louder when he repeated it. He sounded desperate and like he was close to tears, because after all those years. After all those years, and he had never thought he would have Paul like this again. Paul looking at him with those eyes. Eyes from the first time.

"I love you, Paul, I do, so fuckin' much…"

"Shh, John, I know," Paul answered and brought his left hand up to run it through John's hair, marvelled at his face and when he felt a warm tear drop on his cheek, he gently brought John's head down, kissed him again. He couldn't let him go again.

"We will fuckin' _never_ stop again," John said with a strained voice and buried his face on Paul's shoulder. Paul just hummed agreeably and held John, and they held each other, and everything was good again.

"Sorry you had to wait so long," the older man then mumbled and started to mouth Paul's earlobe, making Paul breath heavily and moan in the progress.

"It's alright," Paul managed to say before bucking his hips up to John's and John smiled, lips still around Paul's ear.

"You still up for some thighs an' lips?" he asked quietly and Paul had a hard time to contain his thoughts to nod. He lowered his hands and then they were on John's thighs again, so smooth, so soft under his fingers, and he felt the fire again.

And so he threw John on his back, climbed on him and lowered his head so that there was only five centimetres or so between their lips and hissed:

"I'm gonna fuckin' do whatever I want an' you're not gonna stop me."

A wolfish grin spread on John's lips and he tucked at Paul's shirt.

"As long as you'll get these off first."

"Shut up," Paul answered before moving and grabbing certain body parts and lifting them up and sucking them and _marking them as his fucking own_ , because they were. As was the owner of them.

John laughed at the ceiling.

 

***~ FIN ~***

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments really makes one feel nice y'know? I mean idk hit the button if you feel like it.


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